


where have you been all my life? (it’s been 3 days.)

by cloudburst



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, mac just misses daniel ya feel, raiders being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: He’d always been just a man—not some General, not a Knight or whatever Brotherhood bull crap. MacCready loved a man.For that reason, he agreed to take back up, even if it was Marcy freaking Long.—Daniel has been gone for a while, and MacCready just wants him to hurry back.





	where have you been all my life? (it’s been 3 days.)

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna sleep, but then i wrote this instead. this is like... the longest thing i’ve ever written lmfao. . .

It’s some time in February—he’s not too sure, just knows that he shivers slightly beneath the thin blanket that was strewn across Daniel’s bed. It had been a poor experience, realizing that he’d arrived at their rendezvous point far earlier than Daniel would. Granted, he had left Goodneighbor to make the semi-manageable trek to Sanctuary a whole three days before the planned date—but MacCready had finished his job early, and he was desperate: desperate for whatever Daniel would throw at him next, desperate to know where they would travel together, and desperate for the man himself. It had been driving MacCready crazy, so he left three days early. News flash: he’d made a poor choice. And now, for three days, has been driving himself mad in Sanctuary— _Sanctuary Hills_ as Daniel often arbitrarily called it—completing menial tasks, shooting any dangerous creature that dare come too close to the settlement’s borders. He knows they won’t admit it to him, at least not yet, but he knows the settlers are glad to have him around. At the very least, they’re glad to have his skill with a rifle, and his ability to take down any wild mongrel with one shot. 

The first day, Piper had stopped by looking for Daniel. MacCready had had to break the unfortunate news that Daniel was not, in fact, around. Piper seemed surprised MacCready wasn’t with him. He was surprised too.

She was apparently returning to Diamond City, coming back from Outpost Zimonja where she’d been obtaining information for a story. MacCready had smiled at the settlement being named, and Piper just laughed, as if she could see the thoughts swirling through his head—as if she could also visualize Daniel’s hands around his wrists as they were held above his head, pushed to the mattress, like she could see the crooked smile pulling at the corners of Daniel’s lips, like she could see those very same lips upon him: his lips, his neck. He had been wishing the walls to be thicker, maybe with less holes. On second thought, definitely with less holes. They couldn’t scar the new settlers like that. He wondered if Piper could see how it had devolved into quiet kisses, MacCready’s head atop Daniel’s chest—the man’s face occasionally nuzzling the top of MacCready’s head, arms around his waist. He was warm at Daniel’s side, Piper couldn’t know. Could she? Were they obvious?

If she’d known about the two of them, if they were less subtle than they’d believed, Piper didn’t mention it. At the very least—she didn’t comment upon the heat MacCready could feel high across his cheeks, and for that he was grateful. She just told him the settlers were pleased to be so far north, and they were happy to have met Daniel. Apparently they believed he would protect them. MacCready smiled sadly as Piper said this, knowing full well that despite no compensation, Daniel would put his life on the line.

He didn’t think he could stand to lose another person he cared about—another person he loved. Why did he always have to fall for the ones too bright for this world? The ones destined to burn out too quickly? He chose not to dwell on it. 

That was only one day, and Piper could only amuse him with stories of her trip for so long before she insisted she had to leave—Nat was missing her. And of course there was the unspoken: _’I miss Nat and I enjoy your company MacCready but I enjoy not dying in the Wasteland in the dark.’_ MacCready couldn’t blame her on either of those accounts. He was also missing a kid, one of his own. So that first night of missing Daniel, it seemed all he was doing was missing people, MacCready dreamt of two children playing in a field—a metal shack in the background that looked an awful lot like the one Daniel inhabited, the field looking more and more like Sanctuary: like a home. 

The second day was far more eventful than the first. Some raiders had been spotted a few miles down the line and the settlers were not too happy. MacCready supposed that he wouldn’t have been too happy about imminent death either, as most of them, despite Daniel’s consistent attempts, could not properly fire a gun. And don’t get MacCready wrong, they all had them—and they may actually hit something sometimes—but that was pure luck. Except for that Marcy woman, he thought, now she could kill a raider, a feral, or a goddamn super mutant with that rage in her. MacCready steered clear of that, right up until she insisted on going with him to scout out the raiders. Garvey, as much as he sometimes couldn’t stand the man, would have been MacCready’s first choice; but he needed Preston to stay back, help protect the settlers if the raiders were to pass them in some roundabout fashion. He doubted it, raiders were not smart enough for that—not smart enough to sit and argue strategy. But he didn’t wish to risk lives. _Ew,_ he thought. _Daniel is rubbing off on me._

Preston went to argue with him, but MacCready had just replied with, “Would the General agree with you leaving the settlement unprotected, with as much as he does for the Minutemen, for the settlers?” Garvey looked slightly embarrassed—at the fact that MaCready had been the one to invoke Daniel, or at the fact that he was wrong, MacCready wasn’t quite sure. All that mattered was Garvey was staying behind to protect Sanctuary. It felt strange to call on Daniel in such a way: a way in which MacCready had never really thought of Daniel. Sure, he’d been his boss—was his boss—but Daniel was a man, someone who had stumbled into the Third Rail soaked from the rain, interrupted an argument between gunners, and immediately hired on a shady merc with the best shot in the Commonwealth. Looking back on it, MacCready knew Daniel was beautiful; Daniel had always just been a man with too much to give and not enough to receive. It was easier for him to give, and all MacCready wanted for Daniel, was for him to take. He’d always been just a man—not some General, not a Knight or whatever Brotherhood bull crap. MacCready loved a man.

For that reason, he agreed to take back up, even if it was Marcy freaking Long.

Before they left Sanctuary, heading south—about a mile east of Red Rocket—he gave Marcy one of Daniel’s combat rifles from under the bed they shared in that awful metal shack. He would take back up, and she wouldn’t be defenseless. They set out that night with the fire of the sun in their eyes beneath the cover of stars.

Once arriving, they saw that there was truth in the raider report. There _were_ raiders, albeit very few. MacCready managed to take out four, headshot after headshot, before they even located them. The fifth and final went to rush forward, toward MacCready and Marcy, hoping for what he couldn’t be sure, but Marcy took care of that—making it a nonissue as she pulled the trigger five times, six times, until she needed to reload. MacCready could have sworn he heard the woman mumble, broken like the man’s skull, _”I’m sorry, Kyle.”_

He wouldn’t ask her. He knew she wouldn’t speak. 

That second night, he dreamed of Marcy, her haunted apology repeating like a mantra.

The next day was too quiet in comparison, barely enough to make him tired—killing a few wild mongrels that came too close, trading with Carla when she stopped by: purchasing some of those disgusting, packaged deviled eggs Daniel seemed to love so much. He placed the eggs in the steamer trunk Daniel had situated in the small metal shack—they accompanied only one other item in the large trunk: the wooden soldier Lucy had made for him, the one he’d given to Daniel. He smiled sadly, and closed the bright green chest. 

Around nightfall, he showed Garvey how to properly season the softshell Mirelurk he and Daniel had brought back a few weeks before. Preston seemed mildly impressed, and MacCready spluttered at Garvey’s comment of, “So _this_ is what the General sees in you.”

He knew it was intended to be lighthearted, a joke between friends, as MacCready supposed that’s what they were—but it brought him back to insecurity. What did Daniel see in him, a merc worn out by life, with enough emotional baggage to drown the Mirelurk Queen at twenty-two? MacCready thought that if the roles had been reversed, had he been in Daniel’s position, he wouldn’t have looked at himself twice. He’s grateful that Daniel has awful taste in men. 

Now on his third night of waiting for Daniel to return, he lays beneath that thin blanket, praying and hoping someone will hear—that Daniel never tires of him, will stay by his side forever. He meant it when he told the man that he hopes this little thing between them lasts—meant it when he’d said that the day Daniel told MacCready he loved him was the greatest day of his life. He thinks of how carefully Daniel had preserved the little soldier, and realizes that is not the action of a man taking a relationship lightly. 

He knows that Daniel loves him, and with that thought, it is enough for him to drift into an anticipatory, fitful sleep. 

It isn’t until he hears the floor creak beneath an additional weight that he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He’ll wait till the last possible second, then reach for the pistol he’s all too aware that Daniel keeps in the table drawer—

His worry melts, as does the tension, when he hears the muttered: _”Shit,”_ accompanied by the soft noise of Daniel removing his glasses, placing them on the table that MacCready had been planning on drawing Daniel’s pistol from. MacCready stays resting on his side, facing the wall away from the door as he hears Daniel removing layers. 

A small click, metal on metal, the opening of the cabinet—his weapons being removed and put away. 

A stretching noise, back popping, a sigh, the swishing of fabric and clattering of leather to hardwood—the boots and clothes and armor all coming off: MacCready’s favorite sound.

He feels the mattress dip behind him—feels the warmth radiating off of Daniel as the man positions himself behind MacCready, arm going to rest over his side, warm breath on the back of MacCready’s neck. He feels the press of three day old stubble against his skin, sighs contentedly as lips press gently into the curve of his shoulder. He thinks Daniel will stop eventually, though he doesn’t wish for him to as the lips travel gently across the side of his neck from behind. 

MacCready is sickeningly in love, rolling over in the bed to face Daniel—the man’s dark brown eyes widening a little, the smile on his face growing when MacCready wraps his arms around Daniel in kind, burying his face into the man’s neck—Daniel’s arms tightening impossibly around him. 

MacCready will allow himself this moment of vulnerability—knows Daniel will do nothing with it to harm him, will only keep it between them. _Love, love, love._

Daniel’s hands run across his bare back as MacCready breathes him in, pressing gentle kisses into Daniel’s neck. Their legs tangle, and MacCready wishes to never move again as Daniel’s nails press gently in with each movement of his hands. Everything about Daniel is far too loud, and far too much. 

“I heard you killed four raiders by yourself.” The whisper of Daniel’s voice is almost reverent; MacCready knows he’s thinking about what could have happened, while acknowledging that MacCready’s a big boy—a big boy who makes his own decisions. 

“Brought Marcy with me,” he breathes against Daniel’s neck in between kisses—bites at the skin before continuing. He wants to leave a bruise. “She killed one. Wouldn’t go without back up—at least if the others could report my stupidity to you. Knew you’d have a fit if some settler told you I went to kill a group of raiders by myself.” 

Daniel’s chest shakes as he laughs, low and in disbelief at being known so entirely by the man kissing him like his life depends on it. MacCready thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. 

Daniel tilts his head back to look at MacCready, arms still tight around him. Before he can speak, MacCready lifts a hand to his cheek—thumb running across the high cheekbone, other hand on his shoulder as they rest on their sides, chests so close MacCready is sure Daniel can feel his heart. He presses a gentle, lingering kiss to Daniel’s lips to cut him off. “Now what were you going to say?”

Daniel shakes his head, hands making absent motions across MacCready’s back. “I don’t have fits, RJ.”

MacCready can’t help it; he kisses the pout off of Daniel’s lips—kisses him till he can’t breathe, tangling them further. 

“Remember when I told you not to go through Croup Manor without me, and then you went straight into the dark basement?” A pause. “Without me?”

Daniel huffs, but he nods. He can see where this is going—tries to kiss MacCready to shut him up. MacCready will have none of it, grinning as Daniel does so. 

“Then you got mad when I came in and got hurt, trying to pull your dumb a— dumb self out of the wreckage.” 

MacCready full on giggles, albeit quietly, as Daniel splutters, hiding his face in the man’s neck and resuming the process of small kisses in between his laughter. 

“I was worried. You’d have been upset too.” 

MacCready hums. “I missed you.” 

Daniel pulls back to look at MacCready once more, hands pausing low, at MacCready’s waist—presses a kiss into his forehead before pulling back. “I missed you too.”

Daniel closes his eyes as MacCready pushes his face into his neck, breathing against the curve at his shoulder—holding MacCready tightly, can feel he’s about to break. “You know I love you, right?” A deep breath from MacCready before he continues. “So much.”

Daniel nods, though MacCready can feel, not see it. “I love you too. Of course I know. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s going to stay that way.”

MacCready chokes on air, keeping his face pressed into Daniel’s neck. “You too.”

With Daniel’s arms around him, even in February—with a too thin blanket and creaking metal floors, it’s enough for MacCready to feel warmth: drifting to sleep, and dreaming of two young boys playing in a field, with Daniel holding his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me how ya feeeel, and talk to me on twitter @vauitboi


End file.
